Tea with Ms. Conduct

This week felt like 3 weeks waiting on "my day" to post on Backhand Shelf, but it's finally here!

I wrote about how, just because I like to look at hockey players asses, that I'm not entirely unserious about hockey. And how there are lots of more gals in the same boat. So get off your damn judgmental high-horses about us, judgey people!

Anyway, here ya go. Please check it out and, hopefully, have a laugh or two:  http://blogs.thescore.com/nhl/2011/10/09/tea-with-ms-conduct-the-bunny-conundrum/

One of the awesome things about this gig is that they have a Getty subscription, so I did a search on "hockey goalie stretching" and got 10 pages of goalie porn. Holy hell.

So you can pretty well count on goalie porn pretty much every week. Yay!

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Backhand Shelf

It's here! It's here!

Super excited that the new blog has come to life over at theScore.ca and encourage you to go check it out and make it part of your regular hockey reading routine.

The fabulous Justin Bourne writes most of it, so you know it's going to have his characteristic wit and the experience of having "been there" as a pro player.

I'll be posting every other Sunday starting this Sunday, with periodic other posts as the fancy strikes me. It really is a dream come true to basically get paid to just be funny about hockey.

I remember Justin and I talking at least 2 years ago about how great it would be to have a hockey blog that features a more irreverent take on the game. All the funniest hockey writers in one spot. So I'm happy to see that dream come to fruition, at least somewhat, for Justin, because he's worked awfully hard for it, and I am completely honored to be involved.

So, please come check it out, get involved in the comments, etc. Should be good fun.

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Victory, Namaste, Backhand Shelf, Delights

I have a lot to say tonight and THANKFULLY I've got that dreaded curse of rec hockey: The adrenaline rush that won't. go. away. 

There's nothing else like this, in my experience. You're just so ON while you're playing, that it takes hours to turn it OFF. No matter how tired your body and mind are, there's that second layer of energy pumping in your veins that always wins the insomnia game.

It's the trade-off for all the fun we have out there.

So, I might as well write some shit while I'm lolling around here waiting on the sandman.

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Victory from the jaws of defeat

Women's league was strange tonight. I was a black hole out there for 39 minutes. LITERALLY waved at a puck that was a good shot but I could see it all the way, knew it was coming, watched it zip over the worthless sack of leather I call a glove. "Hi!" "Bye!" "Fuck."

The other team was quite mean to me though, hacking at me all night. I think we play them again next week when the playoffs start. We can kill penalties if we need to.

Anyway, like I was saying, I played like a sack of rotting meat, letting in 4 goals on not a ton of shots, while the other goalie was playing lights out and really only getting beat on really great chances.

I had to talk myself out of tears at one point, but one of the many great things about my team is that we have a lot of former goalies, so they instinctively knew what I needed. The occasional out-of-their-way visit to commiserate, make me laugh, pad tap, whatever, all kept me going and got me back to my "stop the next puck" mantra, which is where I should have gone when I started feeling rattled.

But I was rattled, so of course, I didn't think of that.

We were down 4-3 with less than a minute on the clock and my girl, M, was working her can off trying to get her third goal of the night and tie it up. She finally succeeded and the game went to a shootout. yay.

But after my last shootout success, I was feeling okay about it. And after all that hacking, I was delighted to get the opportunity to stuff them and get the win.

Fortunately, we got one or two goals in (I tried not to worry too much about the actual score... so much that I grabbed my water bottle and started to head to the bench before the shootout was over... oops!) and I stopped all their shots. Strained a groin to get one of them and it was worth it. I'll smile every time I feel that pain down my inner thigh (I'm lying. I go, "Oww!")

So, it was strange in that a) I played so badly but b) I redeemed that bad play (thanks to my team giving me the opportunity to do so) in the shootout of all things. I'll take it, but better play in regulation would certainly have been preferable.

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Namaste, bro

I saw a tweet today, in light of Wayne Simmonds' homosexual slur against Sean Avery during a game, that the NHL is sending a notice to players that such slurs will now be a callable penalty during games.

My response was, "Oh NHL, stop being so knee-jerk."

Someone questioned me on what I meant by that. What I meant by that was that I get the feeling the league kinda has its panties in a wad. Shanny is dishing out heavy suspensions DAILY. Sometimes multiple times daily. And now they're wanting to penalize how guys chirp each other on the ice.

That's not to say I condone hate speech in any forum. But the notion of my NHLers, who are rough and tumble, emotional, reactionary, and basically required to be INsensitive (both to survive their jobs and to execute them) having to think, "How will this language make my opponent feel?" before they say anything just... feels... I dunno. Wrong.

I don't want players to be automatons out there. It just feels more appropriate to me to work on some cultural sensitivity for the guys and trust them to make positive decisions. Maybe I'm being a hippy dippy goofball but it's a place to start, right? It would serve them well both on and off the ice to not be quite so boorish (or at least learn to hide it so they don't make fools of themselves), but to make it a rulebook penalty offense... come on.

(Now go read Nick in New York's case for the NHL's actions and my further clarification in his comments.)

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Backhand Shelf

Did I mention I have a new gig this season? I'll be contributing to a new hockey blog over on TheScore.ca (yeah, my dumb Texan ass is writing about hockey on a Canadian web site--that doesn't have disaster written all over it, does it?)

Justin Bourne is the new bossman over there, and he's a swell guy and thinks I'm funny and said to just "do your thing." Ohhhh lawsy, careful what you wish for, Bourneo. "And today, with another post on what a sexy beast Barry Brust is..."

Anyway, the new blog is called Backhand Shelf, which I'm pretty annoyed by and wasted no time giving Bourney some shit about it. Then again, me writing for a blog named after a move that routinely burns the best of goalies and is guaranteed to burn me, is probably quite appropriate.

Not sure what this means for my other writing. The nature of the opportunity automagically makes it take precedent over most other things. I need to do some soul searching (and quickly) on what this means for the rest of my writing.

Regardless, there's a lot of potential for fun here, so I'm honored to be included and excited to get going. (Now accepting story ideas!)

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Delights

Things that have thrilled me lately (seriously, this adrenaline just won't quit tonight):

• My new house. You envision living in a place when you decide to buy it, but this has exceeded expectations. I love it. Now if someone would PLEASE just buy our old one. *sigh*
• Finding a hockey player who didn't go to college, in fact is actually still in junior, but can WRITE. And not to knock the college boys I've seen churn out some solid articles, but they tend to be a little stiff and lacking a real voice. But one of the kids who tried out with the Wild this camp, Taylor Peters, has a real gift. Fresh and lively and unabashed in his enthusiasm for writing: a true word nerd. And such confidence, as well. For a young guy, it's remarkable. Check him out.
• Buying rugs. I fucking LOVE area rugs. And having an new house without a speck of carpet means I get to buy several, and moreover, just shop for them constantly. 
• Hummus. It never gets old. (No, not hummers. Though those probably don't get old either. At least for the hummee.)
• The hockey road trip MrC and I have planned in a few weeks. Basically if a team plays anywhere near Lake Erie, we're going to a game. Every day for a week and a half a new city and a new game, except for the day Mr.C goes to the NFL game at Rogers Centre between the Redskins and Bills while I go to the HHOF and a game in Oshawa (giant Clutterbuck mural FTW!) It's going to be either a huge blast or a huge grind. Not sure which yet. Maybe both.

Still not sleepy but now out of stuff to say and also hungry. Thanks to you guys who read my drivel regularly. You're the real heroes. 

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Bring it, Buffalo Socks....

Back when I was just coming out of my funk, I was thinking I should create a Goalieometer – a visual reference akin to the Department of Homeland Security Terror Threat Alert, to indicate where my head is at in goal.

I didn’t have time until yesterday, while waiting around the new house for phone and internet to get installed. Behold….

I’ve spent the last 6 months or so in at the Sad Blue or Shit Brown levels with the occasional foray into Cautiously Optimistic Green. But the last couple of weeks, I’ve been ramping up to Sunshine Yellow and after Tuesday night’s women’s league game, I’m spiked into Code Red for a day or so.

While I have come back down to earth, it was still a bitchin' game. We won 4-3 in a shootout, which is the first shootout I've won since my first one two seasons ago. I was absolutely dreading the next one.

But the shootout itself ended up going 1-0, with one of our girls scoring and none of theirs. I believe this team was, heretofore, undefeated, so that's even cooler.

I've mentioned the girl I call Buffalo Socks. Pretty sure she's not a fan of Ms.Conduct. Normally I get freaked out if I think someone doesn't like me, and it has certainly happened in certain hockey circles back in my "learning sportsmanship" days. But for some reason, this one just fuels me. The crankier she gets, the more delighted I am.

So when she got a big, nasty breakaway on me during the game and I came out and met her at the puck at the hash marks and she ran over me and went flying into the corner? Well, let's say it didn't improve her feelings for me.

Unfortunately, she still scored, sliding the puck past me right before we collided. But apart from that small negative, it was all very Brusty-like. I'm sure I was a little bit inspired by this:



Things only got worse for the Buffalo Socks/Ms.Conduct relationship when she was shooter #5 in the shootout, the game in the balance (though thank god I don't keep count very well and wasn't sure where we were in the shoot out).

She skated out to center ice and I said, flush with the confidence of 4 straight saves, "Bring it, Buffalo Socks." She brought it. Came in tight, tried to deke and get me down early. Didn't work. Pad save. Teammates pouring over the bench to come hug me. Warm fuzzies. Life is PERFECT for a few hours.

I guess that's what amazes me about hockey. After games like that, you literally could tell me I'm dying and I'd be like, "Well, it was a good run. Let's drink!" I can't think of anything that is so wholly satisfying as a big win in which I played a critical role (as opposed to winning in spite of me, which has happened plenty).

It was a beautiful night and we just hung out and chatting outside the restaurant after the game and enjoyed the warm breezes and hanging with the girls. Just a great night all the way around.

Also, generally, my best games have come when I was sort of dreading or annoyed about having to play, but this was the first game where I was excited to play AND still had a good result. That, too, is a pretty nice feeling.

Next week we play the team against whom we had "the incident" a couple of weeks ago. M is back (had two of our goals this week) and maybe a little shell shocked by the whole affair still, so it will be interesting to see how that plays out. I hope everyone can just put it behind them, at least on the surface, and we can just beat them clean this time. ;)

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Meanwhile, house stuff is coming along quickly. Windows, phone, internet are in. DTV on Friday. And then moving in next Thursday. At least mostly. The only room that won't be furnished is, sadly, the hockey room. But we wanted to leave some furniture to stage the house we're still selling.

So, it will be a glorious day when we get the house sold because it means we won't have 2 houses any more and I will finally get my precious hockey room where I can snuggle in at night and watch hockey until I'm sick of it. Heaven!

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Tragedy

So much tragedy has befallen the hockey community this summer, it's nearly impossible to believe. I know I haven't written about it here because so many other people have written more and better about these things than I can.

Especially when it's been individuals. I haven't known any of them personally, so while the losses are heartbreaking, what can I really say that hasn't been said? I cried many times over Boogie. I didn't know him, but I know and care about so many who did. He was such a fun part of my journey to becoming a Wild fan.

But the plane crash today is different. The scale of the tragedy is truly epic in the sporting world. Team planes just don't fall out of the sky like this. Imagine your favorite team, who once filled a locker room with chirps and laughter, filled the ice with intensity and passion. Gone. In an instant. The whole team. It's nearly inconceivable.

I will admit, my first clear thought when I discovered the news and processed it for a few seconds was, "Thank GOD Brusty didn't go to Russia." In fact, it might have been one of only a few clear thoughts I've had on the accident all day.

The other being Russo's comment about how hard this summer has been for Gaborik. Losing two of his best friends so young. Poor guy. My heart aches for him.

Logically, my heart aches for everyone who knew these men, of course, but that's too much heartache to bear. I can't even imagine it. So I pick my spots, I guess. The other people I think about are the team staffers who weren't on the trip. Who knew each man, both player and coach and staff, on that plane. Can you imagine being one of the ones left behind? The thought is absolutely gutting.

But if we hadn't been reminded enough this summer to LIVE, this ought to do it. Enjoy life. Do things that make your heart burst with joy as often as possible. Get over your fears. Appreciate the mundane shit. Appreciate the humor in the human condition. Find the good.

We mourn the loss of these men because life is grand and they were a vibrant part of so many lives.

I hope this upcoming season isn't about getting back to "normal" but is about embracing this thing that brings us all together and just flat out getting after it. Play balls out, write balls out, cheer balls out. Why not?

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No drama, lots of shots

Decidedly less drama tonight at women's league, which I was grateful for, to be honest. Though I do think the incident last week finally kind of gelled the team, and gave us a solid "us against them" mentality that's scrappy and fun to be around.

It took me a while, but I adore this team. A great mix of personalities, but overall, everyone is lively and funny and fierce. It's all about tone at the top though, and our captain sets it well. I love playing for and with her, and I love being in her locker room.

It's so nice to be in love with the game again. And I look back over the year and look at where I went off the tracks and the only thing I can really pin down is when goalie clinics started up at the beginning of the summer, through Camp Brusty.


My uncoachability is well documented, but to me, this just cements it. Coaching suffocates my game. Not because it's poor quality coaching but because it buries my instincts, which are decent but they're a bit fragile, for lack of a better word. It doesn't take much to undermine my confidence in a way that takes me a long time to get it back.


When I'm going through periods where I'm being coached or critiqued, whoooooooosh, it all goes out the window. All I hear are voices in my head. All I see are goalies who are light years better than me. All I feel is my confidence, however undeserved, draining out the vent holes in my skates.


So, no more thinking. No more coaching. Stop the next puck.


That said, we lost again tonight, 4-2. But I got hammered. 34 shots in a 39 minute game. I did math (okay, I'm lying, I found a web site that did the math for me) and it would have been roughly 52 shots in a regular 60 minute game.


Letting in 4 on 34 doesn't feel too awful to me. Two were screens, one I literally have no idea how it went in, and the other was a terrible goal. Soft shot, didn't have my stick on the ice, and just wasn't set for the shot. Went right through me. Awful.


But it's a game I can't feel badly about at all. I worked hard and so did my girls, so we deemed it a moral victory. :)


That's it for me this week, hockey-wise. After working hard at the new house all the long weekend, things are very light on that front until next week when a bunch of shit happens bang bang bang. New windows installed Tuesday (YAY!), phone/internet going in on Wednesday, and DTV on Thursday. Phew! Very excited and it's really starting to feel like ours.

Now if someone would please just buy our current house, that would be super terrific.

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STOP THE NEXT PUCK

So, I'm not gonna lie. I've been in the dumps about my game lately. Like, as way down in the dumps as I've ever been. I've dreaded coming to the rink. I've had to lie to myself that hockey is fun. I was to the point of wondering what's next for me and how much could I get for selling my pads.

Of course, every time I think about that, I eventually get to, "Well, you still have to get exercise, so you'll have to ... Zumba or some shit. And that will make you want to throw yourself in front of a bus. So you might as well man up and keep playing hockey even though you suck."

But occasionally the hockey gods throw a girl a bone and let my body do what I want it to do on the ice. And that results in a good game. Tonight, the good game, combined with good games all around by my teammates, who are rock stars, resulted in my second ever shutout.

I love that word: shutout. Shutout. Shutoutshutoutshutoutshutoutttttttttttt..... 

You don't even know (unless you've struggled in net for months on end like I have lately) how much I needed that. I'll stop well short of saying I got my mojo back, but at the very least, it gives me a little hope that maybe I'm okay out there. Maybe I'm not a complete joke like I've been feeling I am. Occasionally, I can git 'er done, even with my meager capabilities.

Also, a "I don't really mean it, but yeah, I kinda do" middle finger at the score keeper for being extremely stingy with the shot count at both ends, but perhaps he was too busy tallying penalty minutes to see all the pucks I kept out of the net?

Because, yeah buddy, did the minutes ever rack up tonight, culminating in some nastiness that's going to leave a bad taste in a lot of mouths for a long time.

I should explain, for the boys, that women's league isn't like your league. You know how your wife brings up "that thing" you fucked up 10 years ago, when you've LONG since moved on? Yeah, that happens in women's league, too.

Bitches Hold Grudges.

Yeah, I know I'm painting in wide brush strokes here but I see it again and again. Something that happened  between two women players 7 years ago still affects how players deal with each other today. That's just how it is.

Hell, I do it, too. I've been harassing one guy I played with all of twice for over-celebrating after scoring on me nearly a year and a half ago. I'll never forget it.

That said, generally women's league is chummy and full of laughter and opposing teammates hugging it out after mild indiscretions.

But tonight, things got a little beyond mild indiscretion. It was far and away the most drama I've ever seen in this league, so I'm guaranteeing that it will linger in the history of the league way longer than it should.

So, we have this gal, M, who is VERY good. Teenager, but tall, strong, and did I mention, VERY good.

She pisses off the other teams with her skill, and even though she tones it way down for women's league, occasionally she takes off, dances through the entire opposing team, and puts one on the net and nobody in this league really has an answer for her. So, more often than not, it goes in. Some people find that to be unsporting in this league.

But I've been shown up enough to know that EVERY team is okay with it if the girl is on THEIR team. So I call bullshit on that. There's a 3 goal limit per person for a reason. Bring it on.

Anyway, we're early in the third period and M and some opposing girl got a little tangled up (why anybody would tangle with M is pretty amazing to me... credit to the girl for her stones).

I guess opposing girl didn't like what went down and (this is the point where I notice the two of them to the right of my net) mouthed off in M's face, somewhat aggressively.

And M cross-checked her right in the grill. 

DOH!

Did I mention M is a strong motherfucker? Yeah. Pushed the chin of her cage into her throat, which of course, had people thinking M cross checked her in the throat. She didn't. She clearly hit cage from my perspective.

She went down in a heap and the ref (who, if I'm understanding this correctly, is the girl's husband) threw M out of the game and gave us a 5 min major.

I gotta admit a few things:

1. I suck at injury stuff. Medical trauma makes me light headed and sick. And to see somebody quite injured right next to my net? Yeah, I had to go for a skate at center ice. The other goalie and I had a chat while they attended to the girl, and considered throwing down the gloves just for fun, since we were already at center ice together and now our teams had a "beef."
2. I was rattled when the puck was ready to drop again. The longer I went in the game with no goals against, the more I kept having to shut out the "shutout" mental talk and just say, "STOP THE NEXT PUCK" over and over. Well, that kicked into overdrive when play resumed because I was still feeling out of sorts both due to the ill will that had just instantly bloomed during our friendly game. Also, because I felt like this team was PISSED and would throw sportsmanship out the window and just come at me like angry honeybadgers. 

But my girls, who had really gelled so nicely all game, seemed even more fierce and just played their ladyballs off, kept chances to the outside (I can't begin to express how important this is), and helped me keep the shutout until the buzzer. (I was extra proud of Caren for playing D very nicely, and probably for the first time, during the penalty kill!)

And there it was: BZZZZZZ. One of my defensemen turned around and darted over to me and hugged me and I'm all "YEAH! WOOO!" because, like, that's how I felt. :) YEAH!!! WOOOO!!!!

I fucking love being the winning goalie. It's been way too long since I had a piece of that pie. It is still delicious.

So, I guess I won't take up knitting or skydiving or whatever just yet.

Meanwhile, M is suspended next week, which sucks, but I actually think it's the right thing. As much as M isn't a dirty player, you just can't be cross checking other girls in the face. (Though she explained that it was more of a response to feeling threatened by the girl, who she felt was coming at her.)

In the end, I'm reminded of why I'm glad I'm the goalie. There's a certain distance as the tendy. You exist on the fringes of whatever shit happens between skaters most of the time, so I tend to watch this stuff and whatever shitstorm of fallout comes with it, with detached amusement.

All I know is I need to try and stop the next puck.

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